


NaNoWriMo Training

by Dubstep_Wombat



Category: Bourne (Movies), Criminal Minds, Doctor Who, Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Stargazing, Tech Support, plastic fork fondue, the endless meetings of Maria Hill, unrelated drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:24:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dubstep_Wombat/pseuds/Dubstep_Wombat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling daily prompts with progressively longer word counts from Sept 1, 2016 until October 31, 2016 so that I will be ready for NaNoWriMo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One Plastic Fork Fondue

Pepper Potts had an army of lawyers.

Matt Murdock was not one of them.

He had represented a group of Sokovian refugees suing Stark Industries. It was not the first legal action brought against SI in the wake of Ultron, nor would it be the last. Ultron hurt a lot of people, and a lot more were flocking to take advantage of a terrible situation.

Mr. Murdock and his partner, a Mr. Nelson, were not trying to take advantage. Pepper settled the case and assumed that was the last she would see of them.

It was not. Mr. Murdock brought her lunch one day. Pizza from a place in Hell’s Kitchen. Then he’d done it again. They talked about legal things and then about ethical things. Mr. Murdock turned into Matt after the second lunch, and that was six lunches ago. But she didn’t think they’d arranged to meet today.

“Matt?” Pepper asked, looking up from her desk to see the lawyer carrying his cane and a white bag. “I’m sorry, did we have a lunch planned?”

Matt grinned. “Pepper, it’s 9:00 at night.”

Pepper blinked and whirled her desk chair around to take in the New York skyline behind her. The sun was setting. “When did that happen?”

“About the same time it happens every night,” Matt said, sitting across from her. He set his cane against the edge of the desk. “Darcy said you hadn’t eaten dinner yet, so I thought I’d bring some.”

“You’re an amazing person,” Pepper said, setting aside the press release she’d been editing. “What did you bring?”

He reached down to open the bag. “It’s a bit involved. You may have to help me.”

Pepper frowned when he pulled out three small candles. “What’s this?” She wasn’t a fan of romantic ambiance.

“Therapy,” Matt said, handing her a lighter. “Could you light these?” She took the lighter while he bent down to get more things out of the bag. Pepper relaxed when she saw these additions. She lit the three candles.

They weren’t for ambiance. She placed the candles in three warmers he put on her desk. In one, he put some aromatherapy oils. On another, a teapot he filled from a thermos, and on the last he placed a pot of what looked like pudding. “Aroma and chocolate therapy,” he said. He pulled a Tupperware container out of his bag and opened it. It was full of cubes of melon, sliced bananas, mini marshmallows, and two plastic forks. “You’ve been stressed lately.”

Her office smelled like cinnamon oil, chai tea, and chocolate. It was heavenly. “You’re an angel.”

Matt laughed a little harder than Pepper thought warranted. “You’re the only person who thinks so.”

“Why?” she asked, grabbing a fork and spearing a piece of banana. The chocolate wasn’t quite warm enough, so she ate it plain.

He shrugged. “I’m a lawyer. Everyone hates me.”

“Only if they don’t know you,” she said. He pulled the last items out of his bag, two Styrofoam cups. Then he poured each of them some tea. “This is lovely,” she said, “but I have to admit, you scared me when you pulled out the candles.”

He frowned. “Why?”

She shrugged and then mentally chastised herself when she remembered he couldn’t see it. “I’ve been dating Tony for years, and I was his PA before that. This… “break” is the first I’ve been by myself in a long time. I like it. I’ve enjoyed learning who I am without Tony. Without anyone. But if you asked me out, I don’t think I have the strength of character to say no.”

He grinned. “I would like to ask you out, but I can wait.”

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

“You’re worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @taleasedubh “Matt Murdock/Pepper Potts candle lit dinner in with dessert” Clocks in at about 630 words!


	2. Day Two Bite Markes On Her Tongue

Madripoor unsettled Maria. She hadn’t realized there was anything left to unsettle her. The gap between rich and poor staggered her. The differences between Hightown and Lowtown often made her feel sick.

She was in Lowtown at the moment. She wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t just acting outside the mission parameters. This was going against direct orders. If her SO ever found out, she’d be dishonorably discharged so fast the sound barrier would break.

The woman sitting before her smiled, reclining on her seat like a queen. By contrast, Maria was sitting on the edge of her own chair, back ramrod straight. It was more out of habit than nervousness. She could do this, even if no one at base believed her.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Maria began.

“I found your approach entertaining,” Tyger Tiger said. “I’ve never seen Lee look so distraught before. Though I should think about retribution. You did damage one of my people.”

“He’ll be fine. A broken finger isn’t permanent.”

Tyger shrugged. “I know, but it would be impolite not to threaten you. I’m more interested in the fact you came alone. Don’t all you agency types have partners?”

“That’s classified.“

“You’re here about the kidnapping, aren’t you?” Tyger smiled, the opposite reaction Maria would have under the circumstances. “The police have already been by. I’ll tell you what I told them. I don’t have the ambassador’s son.”

“I know,” Maria said. “Your operation doesn’t deal with drugs or human trafficking.” It was for this reason she was not allowed to approach Tyger Tiger. SHIELD wasn’t sure her successor would be as agreeable.

Tyger smiled. “I’m a local hero. It’s alright, you can say it. My ego isn’t going to be swayed by someone as insignificant as one of the colonel’s lap dogs.”

Maria gritted her teeth. Most of the time, she didn’t say anything. Most of the time, she kept her mouth shut and her head down. She had bite marks on her tongue from all the things she never said. But this time… this time Maria was off mission. This time, Maria could just… say whatever she wanted. She was on her own. No better time to be herself. “You’re not a hero. You’re just the lesser of two evils.”

Tyger laughed. “You must be new. Darling, in Madripoor, that’s all you need to be a hero. We don’t have a lot of other options around here.”

“If you want to be a hero, find the ambassador’s son.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Tyger asked. “I don’t think I care. Isn’t that your job?”

“I know you didn’t kidnap the boy,” Maria said. “But someone did. Someone made a high risk move that caused you trouble in your own city. You said yourself the police have already been here asking you question. I broke your secretary’s finger. Their crimes have caused you inconveniences. And they might be planning to cause you more than that.”

“You think someone is preparing to overthrow me?” she asked, then laughed. “By kidnapping the American ambassador’s son?”

Maria shrugged. “Knowing that is your job. I’m just telling you to do it.”

Tyger’s eyes narrowed, and she straightened in her chair. Maria resisted the urge to grin. She was getting somewhere. “I may be the lesser of two evils, but I have no qualms killing you. Perhaps you should be a little more cautious with your words.”

Perhaps. “I wouldn’t have walked in here if I didn’t know I could walk out to,” Maria said. “No matter the circumstances.”

Tyger looked at her. Maria looked back. Maria realized something she should have realized long before. “You’ve already looked into it, haven’t you?”

Tyger smiled. “So you’re smarter than you look. Slightly.” Maria didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because I will owe you a favor,” Maria said.

“You? Or SHIELD?”

“Me.”

Tyger’s lips curved into a slow smile. “With that, I could end your career, Agent Hill.”

“A boy’s life is at stake.”

“So noble. The boy’s in a warehouse at the south end of Buccaneer Bay. The South Seas Skyways logo is still painted on it, though they don’t own the building anymore.”

“Thank you,” Maria said. She stood and left.

Her SO did find out, when Maria got back to base with the ambassador’s son in her arms. She didn’t end up discharged. Instead, they gave her a promotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @stereden MCU-Maria Hill - “She’s got bite marks on her tongue from all the things she never said.” I think I played with and discarded six different versions of this. This one is pre-canon


	3. Day Three The Perfect Gift

“Happy birthday,” said a soft voice behind him.

Bruce jumped in his chair, spilling his coffee as he turned to see who had found him.

It was Betty. She rushed forward, bright blue eyes wide. She pulled tissues out of her purse and tried to wipe the coffee on his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” she said, tossing a wad of wet paper in the trash. “Did you scald yourself?”

“I’m not going to turn green,” he assured her.

“Turn green if you have to,” Betty said. “I just want to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m fine. It was cold anyway,” he said, catching her hands in the hopes she’d stop cleaning and look at him. It worked. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s your birthday,” she said, smiling.

He closed his eyes. If his hands hadn’t been holding Betty’s wrists, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is, isn’t it? But how did you find me?”

“I asked Tony Stark,” Betty said with a shrug.

“And he just… told you?”

“He did.” She smiled at him. A little smile. Just one of the corners of her mouth quirked up. It meant something amused her. Considering this was Betty and Tony, Bruce could intuit what had happened.

“Did you imply you were going to engage in sexual intercourse with me?” Bruce asked.

“No, I let Tony come to that conclusion on his own. He did warn me that the Black Widow might be… jealous?” she looked confused.

“Shocked that someone else might wanna get with this?” he asked half joking, half not.

“I’m not surprised the Black Widow has excellent taste,” Betty said, her smile widening enough to show teeth. “I was just thinking that has to be a great story.”

He shrugged. “Nothing much to tell. We worked together to create something we called a “lullaby.” Conditioning the Other Guy to turn back with specific stimuli.” Betty nodded. “I think she volunteered so she’d have a weapon against him, you know? Otherwise she has no defenses.”

“You think she was using you?” Betty asked, her smile falling into a frown.

Bruce dropped Betty’s wrists and shrugged. “I… don’t know. I don’t think I can ever be sure.” He was frowning too. “I’d have been happy to give her that kind of control over the Other Guy. She didn’t need to seduce me.”

“Maybe she didn’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, there was definitely a seduction.”

Betty laughed. “Was there? Better than mine?”

“You seduced me?” Bruce asked, frowning. “I thought you just asked me out.”

“I tried. You never noticed. Eventually I just got fed up and went with the more straight-forward method.”

Bruce was blushing now. “I… don’t think I would have noticed what Natasha was doing if Steve hadn’t told me.”

Betty chuckled. “Getting dating advice from an nonagenarian. Wow. Sad.”

“Could be worse,” Bruce said. “I could be getting dating advice from Tony.”

Betty outright laughed at that. “Instead _I’m_ getting dating advice from Tony,” she replied. This time, when she laughed, Bruce laughed with her. He didn’t generally like to do that. It took his attention away from Betty. She was most beautiful when she laughed. Especially when she laughed hard enough to scrunch up her nose.

“Thank you for coming by for my birthday,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you a present,” she muttered. “I was going to stop on the way here, but, I don’t know if you noticed, but you are living in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s better that way,” Bruce said. “Besides, you’ve-”

She stopped him with her index finger. “Don’t you dare say my presence is all the gift you need or something like that. It’s far too cliche.”

“It’s not a cliche if it’s true,” he said, enjoying her blush.

“Yes it is,” she said quietly, pulling him into a hug. “You’re a sap, Bruce Banner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @dresupi for Bruce/Betty “the perfect gift” Wow these two are fun to write. I really like writing Bruce. It’s just… so much fun? I don’t know why. It’s also really angsty. (Ha-ha that might be why it’s so fun.) Though this one is minimal on the Bruce angst.


	4. Day Four I Need You To Trust Me

“I can’t explain right now, but I really need you to trust me.”

Matt frowned. His waitress hadn’t come back with his food. Instead, her hand was closing around his, and she was tugging him out of his booth. He grabbed his cane and followed.

This wasn’t the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. He remembered with chagrin Foggy’s comment. “If there’s a stunning woman with questionable character in the room, Matt Murdock’s gonna find her and Foggy Nelson is gonna suffer.” Hopefully, all Foggy would suffer today was annoyance at Matt for not coming to lunch.

She pulled him through the diner into the kitchen. The smells of grease and the sound of food sizzling as it hit the heat. The metallic bang of a door opening, and they were outside.

The waitress didn’t stop until she’d pulled Matt several blocks away. She’d taken a twisting and turning path that didn’t do anything to mess up Matt’s sense of direction. He knew exactly where they were. Not that he could be certain she was trying to mess him up. She might think they were being followed. They weren’t, but he couldn’t expect her to know that. Her hand in his had no callouses to suggest she held any weapons. They were a bit dry from too-frequent washing.

“Can I ask for an explanation yet?” he asked.

“I- um…”

He’d take that as a no. “Can I ask your name?” Today wasn’t the first time he’d eaten at that diner, nor was it the first time he’d been served by this woman. But he didn’t remember ever overhearing her name.

“Beth,” she said. “Beth Jackson.” Her heart was beating rapidly, but not any more rapidly than when she was rushing him from the diner. Her breathing was uneven, but again, she’d just been running for several blocks. She was probably telling the truth.

“Matt Murdock,” he said, attempting a casual smile.

“I know,” she said. He heard a sharp exhale, something Matt usually associated with embarrassment. “I know you’re a lawyer, too. I’ve eavesdropped on-on you… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. How can I help you, Ms. Jackson?”

“I-” she paused. “I think that has to wait. We have a little farther to go. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Matt said. “Lead the way.”

Beth nodded. She hadn’t let go of his hand yet, and she pulled him along. “I’m so sorry to kidnap you like this,” she said.

“Kidnapping is defined as unlawfully transporting or abducting a person against their will,” he replied. “You’re not taking me anywhere against my will. I’m always happy to hold hands with a beautiful woman.”

Matt detected a slight stutter in Beth’s stride. “How do you know if I’m beautiful?” she asked. “Or, wait, I’m sorry. Is that offensive to ask?”

“No. It’s fine,” he said, smiling. “You sound beautiful.”

She made that embarrassed sound again, but her hand tightened on his. “Are you always this flirtatious?”

“Are _you_ always this mysterious?” he countered.

She sighed. “I’m sorry. Desperate times.”

“It’s okay. I know how that works.”

Beth led him to an apartment building somewhere in the East Village. She opened the door without needing to page anyone and walked up the steps with confidence. She stopped in front of a door. “Okay, I’m going to open this door, and I would like you to talk to the people inside,” she said. “I promise they won’t hurt you, but if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. Just… even if you decide not to help, please don’t tell anyone.”

Matt held back a laugh at the prospect of someone hurting him. He could hear three heartbeats and a TV in the apartment beyond. He could defend himself from three people. “I promise not to tell anyone,” he said, then smiled. “I’m a lawyer; you can trust me.”

Beth didn’t laugh. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, inserting a key and opening the door. “I brought help,” she announced.

Matt heard a sigh from inside the room. “Beth, we don’t need help,” came a voice he had never heard in person but recognized nonetheless. He instantly knew why Beth had “kidnapped” him. This was the kind of case Matt loved to take.

He stepped over the threshold. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Rogers. Matt Murdock, attorney at law.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by @marvelfanuniverse for Matt Murdock x Beth the Waitress “I can’t explain right now, but I really need you to trust me.” It’s maybe not as romantic? as it could have been, but I really enjoyed writing it. I borrowed ozhawk’s last name for Beth. I hope that’s okay.


	5. Day Five: Stevonnie and Garnet Hang Out

“Oh, hi Garnet,” Connie said. “Are we doing fusion training today?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said.

“Okay. Where’s Steven?”

“Give him a minute… or maybe thirty seconds.”

Connie pulled out her clothes to get changed when Garnet stopped her. “It’s okay. You don’t need to wear those today.”

About forty-five seconds later, Steven walked in. “Connie! You’re early.”

“No,” Connie told him. “You’re late.”

“Hmm,” he said, looking at his wrist. “My watch must be wrong.”

“You don’t have a watch,” Garnet said.

“Well that explains that!” he said with a chuckle.

“Garnet says we’re doing fusion training today,” Connie said, turning to look at Garnet. “‘In a manner of speaking.’” She embellished the last five words with finger quotes.

Steven looked at Garnet. Her expression was impenetrable. Pretty normal for Garnet. But then she gave him a thumbs up.

“Alright,” Steven said. Connie smiled. Steven was always upbeat, even when he had every right not to be. They clasped hands and she felt her brain slide into that strange space of _Stevonnie_.

They were getting better at fusing. But Stevonnie wasn’t sure they would ever get used to that feeling when they became _them_. They didn’t know how to describe the feeling. Connie would sometimes try. She was thinking about writing a book based on the adventures of the Crystal Gems. She wasn’t confident it was any good. Steven thought her writing was amazing, but they had to admit Steven was not a discerning critic. He’d love anything Connie wrote.

“Right,” Stevonnie said, looking at Garnet. It was equal parts unsettling and exhilarating to be as tall as the formidable Gem. “So what are we doing?”

“We’re being,” Garnet said.

“Uh, okay,” Stevonnie said, a little nervously. “And that’s-”

“Homeworld Gems only ever fuse for battle,” Garnet said. “When was the last time you were here just because you wanted to be?”

“Uh…” Stevonnie thought back. Kevin… no that shouldn’t count. “I guess it has been a while. But does this count? I fused because you told me to.”

“You can unfuse if you want,” Garnet said. “This is optional training. Do you want to be here with me?”

Stevonnie thought about it for a second. “Yes, ma’am,” they said.

Garnet smiled. “Good.”

They stood there for a moment. “So…” Stevonnie asked. “How do we… be?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Garnet said, still smiling. “You’re already doing a great job. Do you want to go star-gazing with me?”

“Uhh…” Stevonnie glanced outside. “It’s still daylight.”

“Only on this side of the planet.”

“Okay,” Stevonnie said. “Let’s go!”

They went. Stevonnie hurried to join Garnet on the warp pad. When they emerged, they were on an island in the middle of the ocean, and the sky above them was dark and full of stars.

“Come on,” Garnet said, leading them up a path lined with organic foliage and crystals. The path led to the top of a hill. It wasn’t the tallest hill on the island, but it gave them a great view of the stars.  
  
Both Garnet and Stevonnie spread out in the grass, their heads right next to each other. “What kind of constellations do you have on Homeworld?” they asked after a few moments of silence.

“None,” Garnet said. “Homeworld studies the stars. They might have worlds Homeworld can exploit. Opportunities to expand the empire. But creating shapes out of them… only Earth does that.”

“Really?” Stevonnie asked. They could see Garnet’s nod out of the corner of their eye.

“Using the stars to tell stories to one another, that’s a very Earth thing.”

“Is that good?” Stevonnie asked.

They couldn’t hear it, but they were sure Garnet was smiling. “It’s great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @strunmahmah for Stevonnie and Garnet hanging out. I’m sorry it’s so late in the day. I… may or may not have gotten out of bed at 4pm today. I’ve never written Steven Universe fanfic before! It was actually… really fun? I was really nervous about what they would be doing, but their voices were easy to hear.


	6. Day Six Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @iamartemisday for Bucky and Jane playing seven minutes in heaven. Have a powerless high school AU!

“I regret everything,” Jane said, staring up at the mansion. The music was so loud she could feel the beat reverberating through her shoes. Jane and Tony may get a long well-ish in the lab, but she’d heard enough rumours about his party side to make her nervous. So far, he was meeting all her expectations. She hadn’t even gone inside yet.

“No.” Darcy said beside her.

“Yes I do!” Jane protested. She glared at the young woman. “I especially regret bringing a freshman along. That’s irresponsible.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Please. I may be a freshman, but I am light years older than you in experience.”

“Lightyears measure distance,” Jane corrected. 

“Also, I’m not a huge dork.” 

“Well, this huge dork regrets accepting an invitation to a Stark party. I think I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not,” Darcy said.

“And how are you going to stop me?” Jane asked.

“By stealing your car keys,” Darcy said with an impish grin. She dangled Jane’s key chain in front of Jane’s face.

Jane glared at the girl. “I hate you.”

“I know. Come on.”

“Just because I can’t drive doesn’t mean I can’t walk home.”

Darcy sighed and grabbed her wrist. “Learn to be graceful in defeat,” the younger girl said, dragging Jane inside.

Darcy didn’t let go of Jane once they were inside either. She seemed to be dragging Jane toward a particular destination, which made Jane suspicious. Her suspicions proved correct when Darcy led her into a bedroom that held a number of people. All except Darcy were seniors, like Jane. Tony was in the middle, holding a top hat and wearing a grin.

“I can’t believe you got her here, Lewis,” Tony said. He had omething like awe in his eyes that made Jane uncomfortable on Darcy’s behalf.

“Hey,” Jane said. “Don’t look at her like that; that’s called statutory… wait. Got me here for what?”

“We’re going to lock you in a closet with someone hot,” Darcy said with far too much glee.

“There are many people in the senior class who Seriously Need to Get Laid,” Tony said. “And I find it unacceptable that you, one of my best friends, are one of them.”

“I’m not doing this,“ Jane said. "It’s demeaning.”

“It’s not demeaning; it’s fun,” Tony said. “Come on.” He shook the hat in her direction. “Have one high school experience before you sail off to an Ivy League school and never see any of us ever again.”

“I’m gonna see you again,” Jane muttered, sticking her hand in the hat. She hoped for Bruce. The two of them could sit in the closet and talk physics for at least seven minutes.

The piece of paper she picked said “Bucky” instead.

Jane’s cheeks went red and Tony was wearing an insufferable smirk. Darcy yanked Jane’s hand down so she could read the slip of paper. Then she laughed. “Yes!”

“Barnes,” Tony said. “You’re up.”

Sure enough, Bucky walked forward. Bucky, that guy Jane always saw in the hallways with Steve Rogers. That guy Jane had been crushing on a little since he walked into her sophomore English class with a shiner, split lip and a smirk. Two _years_ ago.

He gestured toward the closet. “After you, ma’am.”

Jane blushed even harder but went inside without protest. Later, she would attribute that to shock. Bucky followed and the door shut.

Seven minutes and counting.

She was surprised by how small the closet was. Jane was sure Stark Manor had closets big enough to house the New York Yankees. Which meant Tony picked cramped quarters on purpose. Damn him. Jane could feel Bucky’s body heat even when she stood with her back pressed against the far wall.

“Hey,” Bucky said, drawing her attention from the toes of his worn sneakers up to his eyes. Eyes that were blue, Jane just now realized. Years of mooning over him from a distance, and she had thought they were brown. Way to be observant Janey. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“ _Not_ wanting to do things is not my problem,” Jane muttered, flushing again. Why did she say that? She wasn’t even drunk! What the fluff-

“Well in that case,” Bucky said, cupping her cheeks. He brushed his lips against hers softly. She reciprocated… far less softly. 

A few minutes of not talking later, Jane pulled away from him. She had moved on from his mouth to his neck. It was fun. She wanted to do it more, but refrained for the moment. “I’m Jane,” she said. Introductions were necessary at this point, what with his hands under her shirt and all.

He laughed. “I know,” he said, kissing her again. “I’m Bucky.”

Jane blushed. “I know. I… might have had a crush on you…”

Bucky laughed again. “You shoulda said something, doll. We could have been doing this a _lot_ sooner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, I have a lot of... thoughts... for this AU, which is weird? For me? idk. Just know that, in this universe, Jane and Bucky have, like a thing that doesn't last when she goes off to college and he goes off to the army, but starts back up again after he gets his arm blown off and comes back to the US. And...angst ensues. 
> 
> There's also a lot of Tony Stark angst in this AU. Like, he's the most popular kid in school, but Jane, Bruce, Rhodey and _maybe_ Pepper are the only real friends he's got. And Bruce, Jane, and Pepper are all planning on scattering to the winds after graduation. I think there might be endgame Tony/Darcy here though... Eventually. After they've both been legal adults for years. 
> 
> ...Honestly, I have way too many ideas for an AU I'm not actually planning on writing any more of? (I'm not! I'm not! I have too many WIPs already!)


	7. Day Seven Martha Jones the Avengers' Medic

Maria frowned at the woman across the desk. “I’m glad you agreed to meet with me.” 

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look it.”

Maria’s face didn’t change. She’d had a lot of practice not betraying her amusement. “We have a career opportunity here we think you might want to take advantage of.”

 “You don’t do this recruiting thing often, do you?”

 Maria’s nose twitched.

 “Career opportunity? I can take advantage?” She smiled. “It’s like you’ve only seen head hunters give speeches on the telly.”

 Maria sighed. Human resources had never been her strong suit. “The Avengers need a field medic. You’re a doctor. You have field experience. You’ve a proven ability to keep your cool in trying circumstances.”

 Dr. Martha Smith-Jones laughed, as if Maria didn’t even know the half of it. And Maria didn’t. Dr. Smith-Jones had shown up one day. One day she was a normal medical student. The next day she was a capable young woman with far too many high-level connections than healthy.

 It was problematic at best, sinister at worst, and one of the reasons Maria wanted the woman on her side. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your enigmas as close to super-spy Natasha Romanoff and mind-reading Wanda Maximoff as possible.

 “You don’t need me,” Dr. Smith-Jones said. “The Avengers already have Helen Cho on payroll.”

 Maria frowned. “How do you know that?”

 “I like to keep abreast of all revolutionary technology in the medical field. You never know when that technology might go wrong,” Dr. Smith-Jones said. “And I have friends in British intelligence.”

 “Hmm,” Maria nodded. “British intelligence?” Maybe the good doctor would give more details if pressed.

 Dr. Smith-Jones only smiled.

 “Dr. Cho is an important member of our team, but she’s not cleared to go out into the field,” Maria said.

 “And I am?” Dr. Smith-Jones asked, eyes flicking down to the tablet in front of Maria. The one that had, five minutes before, been displaying Dr. Jones’s file.

 “You come highly recommended,” Maria said.

 “Well, that’s good to know,” Dr. Smith-Jones said, mouth curving into a slight smile. “And what about my husband?”

 Maria frowned. “He hasn’t been vetted.”

 “So vet him,” the doctor said with a shrug. “Without Mickey, I would have been dead a million times over. Without me, he would be dead two million times over. I need him in the field with me so we can watch each other’s backs,” Dr. Smith-Jones smiled. “And so I can keep him out of trouble.”

 “There is a three year gap in his whereabouts that remains unaccounted for,” Maria said.

 “He was helping to take down an oppressive regime in a third world country at the time,” Dr. Jones-Smith said. She said it easily, so the lie had been practiced. “They didn’t exactly keep records.”

  Maria frowned. “What _about_ your husband?” she asked. Maria had even less on Mickey Smith-Jones than she did on his wife. Another enigma. And that was twice as many as Maria was comfortable with.

 “He’s not just a house husband,” Dr. Smith-Jones said. “He and I work together. You say I’m to be a field medic for one of the most high profile and dangerous groups of people in the world? I say Mickey comes with me.”  

 “Doctor,” Maria said leaning forward. “That is a lie. It’s a lie you’ve practiced, obviously, but it’s a lie.” Maria still had enough resources to disprove that particular falsehood.

 “Well, the truth then?” the doctor asked, looking more amused than defensive. “He was fighting a genocidal people known as Cybermen in an alternate dimension.”

 Maria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If it’s classified, you could just say that.”

“Fine, then,” the doctor said. “It’s classified.”

 “I’ll… talk to my superiors about your husband, Dr. Smith-Jones,” Maria said with a sigh.

 “Then I’ll see you again later. And, please, call me Martha. At this rate we’re going to get to know each other very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by @stereden for Maria trying to recruit Martha Jones to be the Avenger’s medic. Takes place after End of Time and before Age of Ultron. I feel like Martha would hold all the cards in this one.


	8. Day Eight Parker Meets Spencer Reid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Stereden

“Guys, we got a problem,” Eliot said over comms. “The FBI is here.” 

“So?” Parker asked. “I’m a bona fide FBI agent. Or… Agent Hagen is.” 

“No, no, no,” Eliot said. “These guys are BAU.”

“How do you know that?” Nate asked. 

“The shoes. They’re very distinctive shoes.” 

“Riiiiiiiiiiight,” Hardison said. 

“What’s the BAU?” Parker asked. 

“Behavioral Analysis Unit,” Nate said. “They’re profilers.”

“So they’re gonna spot us pretty much… instantly,” Hardison said. 

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Nate said.

“Great,” Parker said. “What’s the worst of it?” 

“They usually hunt serial killers,” Eliot said. 

“Serial killers?” Hardison asked, his voice going up a few octaves. “What kind of serial killers?” 

“There are more than one kind of serial killers?” Parker asked. 

“Yes, but at this point, I don’t think the distinctions matter. Looks like our missing persons case is a little more complicated than we thought.” 

“A little more complicated?” Eliot asked. “A little… it’s a serial killer, Nate! It’s-”

“Parker?” Sophie asked. 

“Yeah?”

“See that skinny guy in the sweater vest?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you go ask him about the case?”

“As Agent Hagen?”

“As a pretty girl.”

Parker made a face. “Flirting?”

“This time a smile is all you need.”

Parker scowled, for a second, before replacing it with the smile Sophie taught her. She took a step toward the skinny guy. He was running his finger down the page of a book, reading.

“No. Look more nervous,” Sophie said. 

“No, no, no,” Nate said. “Parker, just be yourself.” 

“What?” Parker and Sophie asked at the same time. 

“These guys are BAU,” Nate said. “Be yourself, Parker. He’ll spot it if you’re faking. Just be yourself.” 

Silence fell over the comms for a moment. “Okay,” Parker said, and pulled the comm out of her ear. She walked up to the guy. “Hi.”

He looked up from the book. “Um… hi?”

“I’m Parker,” Parker said.

“Dr. Reid,” the guy said, looking confused. At least, Parker thought that expression was confusion. Sophie had taught her, but she tended to confuse confusion and frustration.

“A doctor? I thought you were an FBI agent?” Parker said.

“I’m… both. Are you a reporter?”

“No,” Parker said. “I’m a… private contractor. We were hired to find Amanda Dawson.”

Dr. Reid refocused. “Amanda Dawson-”

“By her grandmother,” Parker said. “Is she dead?”

Dr. Reid blinked. “I can’t- I can’t reveal details of the case.”

“Her grandmother?” Parker said. “She came to us with all these pictures and a sob story… It wasn’t the first time someone came to us with a sob story.  And I’m good at… at keeping things from getting to me. But she had this… this one picture. Amanda’s like, seven in it... playing soccer… I used to play soccer… it got to me.”

The doctor-agent was staring at her. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry, Miss Parker. But that’s a lie. Nice to meet you.” He walked away. 

Parker sighed and put her ear bud. “Well, that didn’t work.” 

“I told you to be yourself,” Nate said. “You lied.” 

“Well, “myself” is a thief. I’m not gonna tell an FBI agent that!” 

“Okay, new plan. We just… keep an eye on them,” Nate said. “Just.. fall back for now, I guess.”

“We’re just giving up?” Parker asked. 

“Eh… sort of,” Nate said. 

* * *

Spencer woke up handcuffed to a metal chair. 

Again. 

He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. He needed to stop getting kidnapped. Unfortunately, out of everyone in the BAU, he did tend to look the most vulnerable. Still, he was getting too used to this. 

Spencer catalogued the room out of habit. Four walls, no windows, one door, looks heavy. Made of steel, maybe? Underground. A cellar. Everyone had them in this part of the country. For tornadoes. But most people stored things in them. This one was empty, except for the chair that Spencer was currently cuffed to.

He would have expected there be things down here. Tools to help the unsub with his ritual. Spencer frowned. Looks like their profile was wrong.

He gave an experimental tug. The chair moved. It wasn’t bolted to the ground. He could scoot his way over to the door, but he doubted he could open it without use of his hands. Still, there was a chance he could escape that way… but if he was caught, his attempt to escape might anger the unsub. 

He took another deep breath. Better to stay in the middle of the room. His goal wasn’t escape. His team would find him. In the meantime, his goal was surviv-

Something clicked, a lock opening. It echoed loud in the empty room. Spencer’s heart felt like it was in his throat. He knew his heart was in the same place it always was, just pumping a lot faster. Anatomical knowledge didn’t stop him from feeling like he was breathing through a straw.

A blonde woman walked through the door. He blinked. A familiar blond woman. “Parker?  _ You’re _ the unsub?” Damn… he did not see that coming.

Parker frowned. “What? No! This is a rescue,” she whispered. “Keep your voice down.” She walked around to his chair.

Spencer tried to take several deep breaths, but it was hard to calm down when Parker was in his blind spot. He had to play along, even if she was lying. This ruse was something he could use.

“How did you find me?” he asked while she fiddled with his cuffs. He couldn’t figure out what she was doing back there when the cuffs were gone. He stood and whirled, putting Parker in his field of vision again. “How did you? Do you have a key?”

Parker frowned. “Key? God no. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door.

That swung open.

The last thing Spencer thought before he was knocked out again, was  _ “Oh yeah, that makes _ much  _ more sense. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I _am_ planning on continuing this, but I didn't plan on on this. So it'll be a bit while I plan out what's up.


	9. Day Nine Tech Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where no one has superpowers. This is inspired by [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5363669/chapters/18209617). Artemis_Day talked about the prompt "I call tech support all the time despite being very tech savvy because I want to talk to you" in chat and I got bunnied. Basically, she wrote it with Jane working for tech support and I wrote it the opposite way.

“Hey,” Steve said. “Me and Tony are gonna to grab lunch. You wanna come with?”

“I can’t leave,” Bucky said gesturing to his little set up. Computer, phone, headset. “I’m kinda workin’ here.”

“Tony would let you leave if you asked,” Steve said.

Bucky snorted. “Look, I know he only gave me this job ‘cause he’s your boyfriend and not immune to that disappointed look of yours- Don’t try it, Stevie,  _ I’m _ immune. As long as I’ve got this job, I’m gonna do it.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Steve deadpanned, neither impressed nor fooled.

“Or maybe I don’t want to go to lunch ‘cause I don’t want to play third wheel on your date,” Bucky said.

Steve blushed. “Tony and I aren’t dating, we’re-”

“Sure, sure,” Bucky said. “And-” He was interrupted by a call at his station. Bucky answered the phone. “Good afternoon and thank you for calling tech support. This is Bucky, how many I help you?”

“Hi Bucky,” came a familiar and sheepish voice.

Bucky instantly sat up straighter. “Jane! What’s the problem today?”

Steve smirked. “Very. Noble,” he whispered at Bucky before walking away. Bucky stuck his tongue out at his best friend, but Steve’s back was turned. He was already heading to lunch.

“It’s a big problem,” Jane said. “Huge. Like, enormous.” Bucky nodded along despite knowing Jane couldn’t see him. Last time she’d said that, she couldn’t log in because she’d left the caps lock on.

“I’m sure it is,” Bucky said. “Other than that, how’s your day been?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I slept okay last night. Did you sleep okay last night?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky lied.

“You’re lying,” she said.

Jane had been calling almost every day for the past two months. The first call had been legitimately difficult. In subsequent days, Bucky learned that, despite being super smart, Jane was hopeless with computers. Still, for some reason, he’d massively over-shared details about his life with this woman. She knew he used to be in the army. She knew he only got this job because the CEO of Stark Industries had a humongous crush on his best friend. She knew about his PTSD and the nightmares. Practically the only thing she didn’t know about him was his last name and what he looked like.

And the arm. He hasn’t told her he’d lost his damn arm as well as his damn mind. Some things a guy’s gotta keep to himself.

But he knew about her too. She was an astrophysicist, though what Stark Industries needed with one of those, Bucky had no idea. She had recently moved to New York from New Mexico and absolutely hated all the light pollution. Her last boyfriend’s name was Thor. She almost never read fiction, unless he recommended it. She liked classical music, especially Tchaikovsky. She wasn’t anywhere near as messed up as he was.

And he knew she was hopeless with computers.

“You were right about I Am Legend,” she said. “The book is much better than the movie.”

“Yeah, they ruined it,” Bucky said. “Something about test audiences not likin’ the book ending. But it-”

“Completely disregards the whole  _ point _ of the book,” Jane said. He could hear her smile in her voice. “I get why you’re so angry about it now. What about you? Listened to anything new lately?”

“Uh.. She-he… Shehera… um, I can’t say the name it’s, uh…”

“Scheherazade?” Jane asked. “Composed by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsavov?”

“I think so?”

“Did you like it?”

“I liked parts…”

“Do you know the story behind it?” Jane asked. “It’s a romance.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s from Arabian Nights,” Jane said. “There’s a Persian ruler, Shahryar, who marries a woman every night and kills her every morning.”

“How romantic,” Bucky deadpanned.

Jane laughed. “Hush, I’m just getting started. So he’s killed hundreds of brides, and Scheherazade volunteers to marry him. That night, she tells him a story. But, as the sun is rising, she leaves off the story at a particularly suspenseful part. Shahryar can’t kill her, or he will never know the end of the story. So he doesn’t, deciding to kill her the next day. But as the next night ends, it ends with another cliff-hanger. Scheherazade does this over and over, for one thousand and one nights, until Shahryar falls madly in love with her and pardons her.”

“That don’t sound like a love story, doll. Sounds like Scheherazade is martyr, sacrificing herself.”

“Sacrifice?” Jane asked.

“Well, at best, she’d live married to a man who had no qualms murdering lots of women. At worst, she’d be dead. But she married him anyway, because she knew how to stop the killing.”

“Interesting way to look at it,” Jane muttered.

Bucky looked up from his computer screen to see his supervisor heading in his direction. “Uh oh. Supervisor’s heading over... Did you ever get around to telling me what your problem was? Cause if you did, I don’t remember.”

“Oh, I uh... “ she trailed off. “I’m… hold on a second…”

His supervisor came to stand right behind his shoulder. “Sure ma’am,” he said, on his very best behavior. “Take as much time as you need.”

“She’s standing right there, isn’t she?”

Bucky just coughed slightly.

“I got it! I’ve got it!” Jane said.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky said.

“My problem is that I can’t get the printer to work.”

“Okay. Well, have you turned the printer on?”

“I… think so? How do I know if it’s on?”

“Well, are any of the lights on?”

“Oh… I… no. Hold on.”

“I’ll wait, ma’am,” he said. Then he turned to his supervisor. “Can’t get the printer to work,” he whispered, covering the mic on his headset.

His supervisor stared at him for a moment. Then she moved on. Bucky watched her go for a while, before turning back to Jane. Damn, he could never get a read on that lady.

“Okay, it’s on now,” Jane said.

“Meaning it wasn’t on before?” Bucky asked.

“Uh… no. Not really.”

“Is it working now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jane said. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s my job.”  

“You’re really good at your job.”

Bucky… blushed. “Thanks Jane.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” she asked.

“You’re planning on needing tech support tomorrow?”

“I think it’s a realistic expectation,” Jane said. He could hear she was smiling again.

“I’ll talk to you later, then,” he said. 

“Bye.” 

“Bye,” he said, grinning like a fool. Couldn’t seem to stop, either. When Steve got back from his date, Bucky was still grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a part 2. I'm actually writing it right now.


	10. Day Ten Natasha Romanoff and Jason Bourne

After the Accords Fiasco, Natasha went to ground. She chopped off all her hair and bleached it. She wore clothes that were too large and none of them were black or red. The Black Widow was gone.

Natasha Romanoff still remained, though there were few people who knew her well enough to be a threat. And all were extremely visible. She’d see them long before they saw her.

Of course, thinking like that could get one into trouble.  

She walked into her flat to find someone was already there. Natasha pulled her gun out, but she didn’t shoot. Not yet. “Bourne.” 

The man in her chair huffed a humorless laugh. “You gonna shoot me, Widow?”

“I heard you got amnesia,” she said.

“I heard that’s going around,” Jason said, standing. “Come inside. Pointing a gun out in the hallway’s gonna attract attention.”

He was right. Nat stepped over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind her. But she couldn’t lock it without taking her eyes off Jason. So she didn't, but it itched. Less warning if attackers came from behind her. But Treadstone and the Red Room both trained their assets to work alone. This way the assassins would not be more loyal to each other than to their country. It wasn't likely there was anyone waiting out in the stairwell. 

“You look old,” she said. She knew the CIA had access to biochemical enhancement programs. But they didn’t seem to do the same things that Natasha’s enhancements did for her.

“You look tired,” he said. “I saw you on TV telling the United States government to fuck off. Triggered a few memories.”

Natasha shrugged. She still didn’t put the gun down. “So,” she said, attempting a conversational tone, “is this about finishing what you started? Or do you just wanna know the details?”

“I know enough. Syria, wasn’t it?” he asked. 

Nat nodded. “Fun times.” He smiled a little. Less humorless this time. “We finishing what we started then? Cause if so, could we wait until we’re outside city limits? I’ve had enough civilians in danger for a lifetime.”

Jason nodded and looked away from her to glance out the window. It only lasted a second, but it was enough. Nat could have killed him in that second. They both knew it.

Still, she didn’t put her gun away. 

“I’m not here to kill you,” Jason said.

“Then why are you here?”

“I… don’t know. I saw you.” He shrugged. “Marie used to… make me write everything down. We hoped I could find something…”

“To make it all worth it,” Nat finished. She didn’t exactly know who Marie was, but she could guess. Nat could also guess what happened to her. She shook her head. “I can tell you right now, Bourne. There’s nothing there. You have to… make up for it. We owe the world. We have to pay the debts.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well… I’ve been trying. Hasn’t gone so well for me.”

“I don’t know. You’ve managed to save the world a couple times.”

“Not a lot of people see it that way,” Nat said. “I’d say you’ve done better. Taking down Treadstone and Blackbriar… I've never tried to take down the Red Room. Never had-” she paused. Never had the time? The courage? The ability? She didn’t know.

“Didn’t they go down with the Soviet Union?” he asked.

“No,” Nat said. She was certain of that, if nothing else. They would not stop. “But I don’t think they’re exactly working for Mother Russia anymore.”

Jason shrugged. “You gonna go after them?”

“I wouldn’t make it far,” she said.

“Is that gonna stop you?” 

She sighed. “Like you said, I’m  _ tired _ . I just want… I’ve been looking over my shoulder all my life. It’s… it’s part of who I am now. I want a life where I don’t need to.” 

“That is never gonna happen,” Jason said. “Trust me.” 

Nat looked at the ceiling. It was just for a second, but he could have killed her then. And they both knew it. She returned her gaze to the other assassin and put her gun away. “I know,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t want it.” She walked into the kitchenette. “Tea?” 

“No thanks,” he said. 

She smiled. “I don’t keep my cyanide in the kitchen if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Oh, well, in that case… still no.” 

Nat chuckled and pulled a mug out of her cabinet. “So you came by just to commiserate about the trials and tribulations of being an assassin on the run?”

“Well, I get bored,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

She frowned as the mug of water heated in the microwave. “So... since I can’t retire, you wanna take down the Red Room with me?”

He blinked, and stared at her. “What?”

She shrugged. “I’m tired, and I’ve gotten used to having partners.”

“We can’t even be in the same room without considering all the ways the other can kill us,” Jason said.

“Yeah, but we think that of everyone,” Nat replied. “I can’t take down the Red Room. They make sure the Widows can’t turn against them.” She nodded at Jason. “But you. You can.”

“Jason Bourne teaming up with the Black Widow?” he asked, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Across the world, CIA analysts just woke up in cold sweats, and they don’t know why.”

“We can go after your guys after we destroy mine, okay?” Nat said. 

“Okay,” Jason said. “So, are we headed to Russia?” 

Nat shook her head. “No. Cuba.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ozhawk for this one! And yes, I do plan on having a part 2. Again. I'm pretty lean on prompts these days guys. Go to [](http://reprehensiblewombat.tumblr.com/ask>my%20tumblr</a>%20to%20leave%20them!)


	11. Day Eleven The Monaco Job Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy and the Leverage team go after the same mark

Remy pushed his sunglasses up higher up on his nose and flashed a smile at the petite blonde with a tray of drinks. “Thanks, chère,” he said, taking a flute of champagne.

“Focus, Remy,” Hill said through the piece in his ear.  “We’re here to do a job.” 

“We? ‘S far as I can tell, chère, I’m here to do a job. You’re safe and sound in a van down the street.”

“You wanna switch, we can switch,” Hill said. “It kind of smells in here.” 

“Don’t ask me,” Remy said. “It’s not my van.” 

“Not mine either,” Hill said, with a sigh. “Do you see the target yet?” 

“Chère, I’ve had eyes on him since I walked in,” he said. 

“Good,” Hill said. “Get to work.” 

He chuckled. “Well, now that I have your permission,” he said, with a grin, before mingling among the guests.   
  
His mark was a Dr. Douglas Richardson. Richardson owned a pharmaceutical company that made most of its money with dietary supplements. Hill discovered he’d received several ceremonial masks that were traditional to the Kalahari Desert.  But the person he’d gotten them from lived in Ethiopia. The person he’d gotten them from was also one of Ulysses Klaue’s former associates. Hill thought they were smuggling something in the masks. Remy's job was to steal those masks before Richardson got them back to the United States.   
  
Luckily, the good doctor had taken a detour to attend a gala in Monaco. Remy's best shot at the masks was here.

The gala was casino themed. Remy was a fox in a chicken coup. He smiled and flirted and gambled, winning but not much. He never approached Richardson. Instead, he would let Richardson come to him.   
  
Which, of course, he did. This was not Remy’s first time. “Makin money there?” the mark asked.   
  
Remy was up only 25,000 dollars. “Eh,” he said. “Some small change, mon ami.”   
  
Dr. Richardson smiled. “You’re French?” he asked.

Remy shook his head. “Cajun,” he said, with a slick smile. Which was a bit of a risky move. Remy had been fighting the label of “hick” his entire life. And Richardson was a snob.   
  
“Uh, what are you doing here?” Richardson asked, and Remy could see him considering the “hick” label. What’s a hayseed like Remy doing at this party in Monaco?   
  
He flashed the man one of his smiles, a cocky one. “Well, I am here to enjoy the night, just as you are.” He adjusted his sunglasses, like he might be uncomfortable. In this instance, he could use Richardson’s prejudice to his advantage. He held up a poker chip. “Wanna play?” 

Richardson looked from Remy’s grin to his sunglasses to the quarter of a million worth of poker chips. The mark straightened, throwing his shoulders back. With his biochem doctorate and his drug company, he thought he was smarter than Remy. Remy was content to let him think that. “Sure,” Richardson said. “Doug Richardson.” The mark extended his hand.   
  
Remy shook it, “Aubin Lafont,” he said, making up the name on the spot.   
  
“Damn it, LeBeau,” Hill said. “That is not the cover we provided.”

Remy didn’t answer. He just sat at a poker table with Richardson, a dealer, and an angry looking fellow who wore his hair long. Longer than Remy had in the 70s, which was quite impressive. Remy introduced himself. “Aubin Lafont,” he said.   
  
“Dale Sheppard,” the man said in a Texan accent.   
  
“Doug Richardson,” the mark said. “CEO of Metric Standard Pharmaceuticals.” It did not escape Remy’s notice that Richardson felt the need to include his occupation. Neither Remy nor Sheppard had. He looked Sheppard and Richardson over again. Richardson was a short, skinny man in his early fifties. Sheppard was taller and more muscular, in his late thirties or early forties. And Remy himself was the tallest of all, and no slouch when it came to muscles neither. He may have been older than both these men, but he looked the youngest. 

“Oh, good for you,” Sheppard said. “All I’ve got’s some land with a little oil under it.”   
  
Remy could have kissed the oilman. Sheppard was antagonizing Richardson, which meant Remy was free to sooth Richardson’s ruffled feathers.   
  
Richardson looked at Remy, who held up his hands. “Got nothing like that,” Remy said. “I just make table salt.”   
  
“Okay,” Hill said. “I’ll… set up a cover for Aubin Lafont, salt mine owner from Louisiana.”

“Why thank you chère,” Remy told both the dealer handing him his cards and Hill. The dealer blushed. Hill just snorted.   
  
“I still think we should have gone with the laboratory owner,” Hill muttered. Remy didn’t tell her that Richardson would think that was suspicious. If there were drugs in those masks, Richard would need to process and test them. Happening to make friends with a guy who owned laboratories would be too convenient. 

Besides, a mine would need chemists, right? Remy didn't know anything about mining, but he thought Richardson didn't either. If need be, he could bluff.   
  
The game went on for a couple hours, during which time Sheppard won. Remy and Richardson lost, though Remy was doing it on purpose. It wasn’t long until they were both scowling at the Texan.   
  
Remy had been careful thus far to lose more money than Richardson. Soon, he was out. He waited until Richardson had lost almost all his money.

“Mon ami,” Remy whispered to Richardson when he thought the time was right. “Do you think that man is cheating?” he asked. Richardson blinked, but Remy continued. “Is anyone really so good as to be winning this much?”   
  
“I’ll call security-”   
  
“He is an honored guest. I believe I have a better plan,” he said. “I think I figured out how he does it. Only lend me some money, and I can win all of our cash back.”   
  
Richardson frowned at him. “But you’ve lost even worse than I have.” 

“Only because he was cheating, mon ami,” Remy said.   
  
Remy had spent the last two hours convincing Richardson that they were “brother in arms.” Richardson crumbled. “Alright, but I expect you to pay me back, whether you win or not.”    
  
“Of course, mon ami,” Remy said. “You will not regret it.”   
  
Richardson gave him the money.

Remy was back in the game with 1,000 dollars. Sheppard had about two million sitting in front of him. It was all Remy could do not to grin. The poor, poor Texan. He never stood a chance.   
  
“That was amazing!” Richardson said, a mere fifteen minutes later.   
  
They had split the two million between them. Remy insisted. “I merely did not allow him to use his cheating ways against me again. Once the playing field was even, le cochon did not stand a chance.”   
  
Le cochon had also been thrown out. It helped that Sheppard had actually been cheating. Marked cards. Well made too. Remy would have liked to keep the deck, but the Texan had taken it with him.

“Le cochon?” Richardson asked, as he fumbled for his hotel key. Richardson was taking him back to his hotel room for a celebratory drink. That was where Remy would locate and steal the masks.   
  
“It means pig,” Remy explained. Richardson swung the door open. They were just in time to see the petite, blonde waitress jump from the hotel room’s window.   
  
She had the masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the oilman is in fact one Eliot Spencer


	12. Day Twelve The Monaco Job Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another meeting for Maria Hill... why is she always in meetings?

The Monaco job had not gone well. 

It wasn’t the first time Nate had tried to use a poker game to take the mark’s money. And it wasn’t the first time it hadn’t worked. But this was the first time it had fallen apart so spectacularly. Ordering Parker to steal the masks had been a last ditch effort on his part. It was only back at their hotel they discovered the secrets those mask hid.

“Uh oh,” Nate said, seeing the bags of green plants hidden inside the masks. 

“That’s not the worst of it,” Eliot said, pulling off his bolo tie. “Those drugs? They’re a legend. They’re not supposed to be real.” 

“What are they?” Sophie asked. 

“There’s a legend in East Africa. About Wakanda’s Heart Shaped Herb,” Eliot said. “If you eat it and you’re unworthy, it kills you.” 

“And if you’re worthy?” Nate asked. 

Eliot shrugged. “The legend varies, man. I’ve heard everything from heightened proprioception to everlasting life.” 

“Proprioception?” Sophie asked.

“It’s the sense you have of your body. You don’t have to look at your arm to know where it is,” Eliot explained. “That’s proprioception. The point is, this thing grows only in Wakanda. If they know we have some, they’ll come after us without mercy.” 

“Great,” Nate said. 

“Actually,” Hardison spoke up from his seat in front of his computer. “That’s not the worst of it. That guy with Richardson? Facial recognition pinged him as Remy Lebeau.” 

Parker blinked. “Remy Lebeau is a real person? I thought he was just a myth.”

“Remy Lebeau,” Sophie breathed. “He’s a legend. No wonder he beat you.” Eliot scowled at her.   
  
“I stole something from Remy Lebeau,” Parker said, smiling. “Huh. I’m awesome.”   
  
“That you are,” Hardison said. “But how are we supposed to con Remy Lebeau?”   
  
“I don’t think we have to,” Nate said. “He’s running his own con.” They all turned to him in confusion. “Come on. A guy of Lebeau’s reputation isn’t losing at poker at all. Eliot almost had him beat just before the end. That was a performance, and I don’t think it was for our benefit.”

Sophie nodded. “He’s planning on coning Richardson too.” 

“Are you proposing an alliance?” Eliot asked. 

Nate shook his head. “Not until we know what Lebeau wants, and who he’s working with.” 

“Working with?” Sophie asked. “Lebeau always works alone.” 

“He did,” Nate said. “But I don’t think that’s the case now.” 

And that was when his phone rang. He checked the number, but didn’t recognize it. “Impeccable timing,” he said into the receiver. 

“Mr. Ford,” came a female voice, so it was definitely not Lebeau.    
  
“Yes. And you’re Mr. Lebeau’s associate, I assume.”   
  
“I would like to arrange a meeting,” the woman said.   
  
Nate’s eye fell to the bags of Heart Shaped Herbs they had discovered. “I’m sure you would. Name a place.”   
  
They ended up agreeing on a bistro. It was on the main drag. Not too expensive but definitely a favorite of tourists. It would be during the lunch rush. Nate wouldn’t stand out.

“I’ll go,” Nate said. “I won’t ask you guys not to come, but I hope you’ll hang back. I don’t want you anywhere near this meeting. Don't let anyone see you. These guys are serious.”   
  
“What guys?” Parker asked.   
  
“SHIELD,” Nate said.   
  
“SHIELD?” Hardison asked. “There ain’t no SHIELD anymore, dude. Captain America took it down.”   
  
“Took it underground,” Nate said. 

Nate sat at a table during the lunch rush. He’d only ordered a cup of coffee. There was whiskey in the coffee. He wasn’t drinking it.

“Afternoon, Mr. Ford,” someone said. The woman who sat down was pretty, with brown hair and blue eyes. She also looked like she would snap him in half given half a chance. Funny, he’d only ever seen that look on Eliot’s face before. 

A man joined them, a man with close cropped brown hair. Also with blue eyes. Far less striking than the woman. He also looked kinder. But Nate knew he could be as fierce as the woman if he needed to be. Also could handle himself.   
  
“I thought you were coming alone,” he said to the woman.   
  
“My name is Phil Coulson,” the man said. “Last week, we got word that Douglas Richardson had received a package. It may have contained controlled substances. We were going to intercept that package.” 

“But I got to it first,” Nate said. Then he frowned. “You’re being much more open about your intentions than I would have thought.”   
  
“I know who you are,” Coulson said. “I know what you do. The truth is, I have a vested interest in letting your operation run. You’d be surprised how often criminal billionaires become headaches for me.”   
  
Nate thought that was an understatement. “Well then. Do you know what’s in those masks?”

“Not for sure,” the woman said. No one had said her name, and Nate thought that was deliberate.   
  
“I do,” Nate said. “So, I know that this is not as simple as just handing the masks over.”   
  
“What do you want in exchange?” Coulson asked.   
  
“I want Lebeau,” Nate said.   
  
“Lebeau?”   
  
“My firm was hired to take down Richardson. We are going to do that. And Lebeau has already hooked the mark. I want Lebeau to help my team take him down.”   
  
“And once we’ve taken down Richardson, you’ll hand over the masks?” 

“No,” Nate said. “Then I will allow you to arrange a meeting between me and a member of the Wakandan government.”   
  
Both the agents looked at each other. Nate frowned. That was the look of two people who had just realized their worst fears.   
  
Which meant Nate had all the leverage.


	13. Day Thirteen Pretzels and Chili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardison and Parker had a fight or something. They aren't talking to each other. But they _are_ talking to Eliot.

Eliot thought it was just a normal day. He woke up. Made breakfast. Met with the team while Nate briefed them on the scumbag of the day: a televangelist praying on good people. He conned cancer patients into giving him their money instead of getting chemotherapy. A real monster.

Typical of their job. But… there was something strange about this particular day. 

Eliot prided himself on being able to notice little things. Small details that might save his life out in the field. Still, between Sophie and Nate, he knew he was the last person in the room to notice it. Parker and Hardison weren’t talking. 

Well, they were talking. Just… not to each other. Eliot spent the whole morning debating whether or not to mention it. On the one hand, it was none of his business. 

On the other hand, if it affected their performance in the field, it  _ was _ his business. 

And on an imaginary third hand, they were his family. But Eliot wasn’t sure if that meant he should help them work it out or if he should let them do it themselves. 

He decided to wait. In the end, he figured that kind of decision would be made for him. 

Eliot would have preferred if it didn’t happen when his life was in danger.

“Are all men so stupid?” Parker asked. 

They were hanging upside down off the ledge of a thirty story building. “Now?” he whispered. “You want to talk about this now?” The Irish mob was on the roof above them. If they decided to look over the edge… well, they wouldn’t die. Eliot was too good at his job. But it would be annoying. 

Parker shrugged. “We might be hanging around for a while,” she said, giving him a goofy smile. 

He sighed. “So. What’d he do?” 

“Huh?” 

“Hardison?” Eliot asked. “What’d he do?” 

“Parker, Eliot,” Nate said, over comms. “You’re clear.” Eliot and Parker righted themselves. 

He was too smart to think their inverted conversation would be the end of it. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Hardison said, over comms, much later. Eliot was inside the “church.” He was waiting for Hardison to do something fancy with the computers. 

If he was caught in here… well, again, he’d be fine. But it would be inconvenient. “Do we have to talk about this now?” he asked. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Hardison said. “I don’t know why she won’t talk to me.” 

“Did ya ever think that maybe it’s something you didn’t do?” Eliot asked. 

“Nah man. I didn’t forget any anniversaries or anything,” Hardison said. “Besides, Parker ain’t like that. She doesn’t care so much about anniversaries. Her version of romance involves leaping off the Empire State Building. You know that.” 

“Yeah, but she still has a version of romance,” Eliot pointed out. “Did you-” He heard footsteps coming down the hall. Five guys. Regular patrols only had two. “Damn it Hardison, hurry up!” 

“I’m hurrying! I’m hurrying!” Hardison said. “I’ve got it. Get out of there.” 

Eliot managed to get out of the building with minimal inconvenience and a flash drive. He’d only had to punch, like, two guys. Cakewalk. 

Back at Lucille, Hardison was glaring at his computer screen. “I swear, I didn’t do anything,” he said. “Do you think you should get her another plant?” 

“ _ I _ should get her another plant?” Eliot asked. “ _ You _ get her another plant. Last time I said the plant was from you!”

“She knows it was from you, man,” Hardison said, logging out of his system and moving to the front. He took shotgun. Even though Lucille was unquestionably Hardison’s baby, Eliot always drove.

“I- she- what?” Eliot asked, sitting down and starting the van. They drove back to the pub.

“Lies are not part of a healthy relationship,” Hardison said. 

“How did she find out?” Eliot asked. 

“It died,” Hardison said. “Turns out carnivorous plants are not easy to grow. In addition to needing the right amount of sunlight and water, it also needed a specific soil pH and… well, flies. Parker put it in her room. There just weren’t enough flies to keep it alive.” 

“And you said, ‘Don’t worry, Eliot’s really the one who gave it to you anyway?’” Eliot asked. 

“Not in so many words,” Hardison said. 

“What do you mean, ‘not in so many words?’” 

“I mean, I didn’t say those exact words. Why you all up in my business anyway?” Hardison asked. 

“You are the one who started this conversation!” Eliot yelled. 

“Woah, woah, woah. No need to shout,” Hardison told him. 

Eliot resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and pinch the bridge of his nose. Or punch Hardison. He was at the wheel of a vehicle at the moment. Both would impair his ability to drive. 

Not by much. But enough to be bothersome. 

He fully expected this situation to be resolved by the time they finished the televangelist job. He fully expected Hardison and Parker to have a “moment.” Perhaps right in the middle of everything when they should be doing their jobs. Perhaps in the pub after everything had calmned down. 

So, the next day when Eliot went to the pub kitchen to experiment with new dishes and saw they  _ still _ weren’t talking… he was getting concerned. 

“Parker,” Eliot said, bringing her a new shepard’s pie recipe he was trying out. “Don’t be mad because I got you the pitcher plant instead of Hardison. I think he might be looking into getting you another one.” 

Parker looked down at the plate in front of her and shook her head. “No, that’s… I knew it was from you long before it died,” she said, offering him a smile. “Hardison’s gifts are robots.”

Eliot frowned. “Okay, so… what’s the problem?” 

Parker looked down at her plate, picked up her fork and poked at the pie. “I like pretzels,” she told him.

Eliot was still frowning. “You want me to get you some pretzels?” 

She shook her head. “No, I mean, I love pretzels. But… I also love chili?” 

“Parker, you’re allowed to like more than one kind of food.” Eliot said. 

She frowned at her shepard’s pie. “It’s seems like everyone else just has one favorite food. But I have two. I don’t think that’s okay.” 

“We’re not talking about food, are we?” Eliot asked. He’d be damned if he knew what they  _ were _ talking about though. 

Instead of answering, Parker took a bite of the pie. “This is really good.” But she looked… sad?

“Thanks,” Eliot said, thoroughly confused. Maybe this wasn’t his business after all. Parker and Hardison were the best couple he knew. They’d figure it out, right? They  _ had _ to. They made each other happy. And that was important to hi-to the team. Eliot frowned. No. It was important to him, too. 


	14. Day Fourteen Parker Meets Spencer Reid Part 2

**72 Hours Earlier: Portland, Oregon**

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but this isn’t the sort of thing we do,” Nate said, hating himself as he did. The woman across from him was a very tiny old lady who wore glasses that magnified red-rimmed eyes. She’d been crying. She was terrified. “You really should got to the police.” 

“I’ve already  _ been _ to the police,” the lady said tearfully. “I filed a missing person’s report and… they haven’t done anything, Mr. Ford.  _ Nothing _ .” 

“Mrs. Dawson,” Sophie said. “I’m sure the police are doing all they can-” 

The older woman shook her head. “No, they’re all focused on something else. None of them are looking for my granddaughter.” 

“Something else?” 

Mrs. Dawson shrugged. “A murder case. It’s been all over the news. Please. I traveled here all the way from Williston, Mr. Ford.” 

“Yes, I understand that but,-” 

“Amanda’s all I have left,” she insisted. “Please.” 

Nate and Sophie looked at each other. Nate sighed. “Mrs. Dawson, it would be my pleasure to find your granddaughter,” he said. 

“Thank you,” said the woman. She clasped Nate’s hand with both of her own. “Thank you so much, Mr. Ford.” 

“Yes, well, I have to go talk to my team,” Nate said. “Are you going to stay in Portland while we work on it, or are you going to fly back to North Dakota?” 

“I’m going back home as soon as I can,” Mrs. Dawson said. “If Amanda comes back home, I want to be there to meet her.” 

Nate nodded. “I understand. I have to go talk to my team, now… if that’s okay?” He nodded to where she was still holding his hand.

“Oh,” the woman said, releasing him. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll be right back, I promise,” he said, leading Sophie back to the kitchen where Parker, Eliot and Hardison were no doubt waiting. 

“They’re not going to like this,” Sophie said. “This isn’t our normal case.” 

“Then  _ they _ can go out there and tell Mrs. Dawson no,” Nate muttered. 

Sophie smiled. “Aww Nate. Who knew you were such a softie.” 

“I’m not a softie.” 

“A  _ huge _ softie.” 

**72 Hours Earlier: Washington D.C.**

Spencer leaned back in his chair, watching JJ give the briefing. Three months ago, Williston police had found some human remains that were burned beyond recognition. All anyone could tell was they were female. Then, a month ago, they found another female skeleton, also burned. 

“And then this woman, Amanda Dawson, was reported missing two weeks ago by her grandmother,” JJ said. “The Williston police think it might be related. That’s why they’ve asked for our help.” 

“How come it took them two weeks to call us?” Morgan asked. 

“They weren’t sure the cases were connected,” JJ said. “They still aren’t, but the police department is swamped. They’ve received a lot of media attention since they recovered the second victim.” 

“Look at the position of the bodies,” Spencer said. “The flexion of the wrists and the elbows… it’s called the pugilistic attitude. Either the bodies were burned shortly after they died, before rigor mortis set in or…” he paused, swallowed, and then continued. “Or they were burned alive.”  

“The ME couldn’t confirm that,” JJ said. “They tried to check soot content in the airway, but there… just wasn’t enough airway left.” 

“They still haven’t I.D.’d the bodies?” Morgan asked. 

JJ shook her head. “Not yet. The local police think they might be runaways? To be honest, though, I’m not clear on why they think that.”

“High risk victims,” Rossi said. “But this… Amanda Dawson, she’s a local in the area. Steady job. Family she has regular contact with. She’s low risk. If the two cases are related, that’s an escalation. The unsub is getting bolder.” 

“That and the time table is moving up,” Prentiss said. 

“Maybe,” Hotch said. “We don’t actually know when the first two victims were taken. JJ, are there a lot of runaways in the area?” 

“The transient population has increased because of the oil boom. Just like everything else in Williston,” JJ said. 

“Yeah, the Bakken Formation produced 458,000 barrels of oil per day by the end of 2010. In 2015, oil companies spent 16 billion dollars expanding the industry,” Spencer said. 

Morgan frowned at him. “I know how you know that, but…  _ why _ do you know that?” 

“I-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Hotch said. “What matters is we have a police department with their hands full, a possible serial killer, and a missing woman we have to assume is still alive. Wheels up in thirty.” 

**Now: Unknown Location**

Parker woke up handcuffed to a chair. Her jacket had been taken away. Her shoes were gone too. She knew that her pockets also were empty. Pockets, jacket, shoes… all hid pins and paperclips and other useful bits of metal she could use to pick locks. 

“Guys?” Parker asked, hoping for a response over the comms. “Guys, can you hear me?” 

“I can hear you,” came a voice from behind her. Dr. Reid. He was handcuffed to the same chair as before. Their backs were to each other. 

“I’m not talking to you,” Parker said, looking around. She couldn’t see any kind of security devices. No cameras anywhere, or motion detectors. She supposed they could have put a bug under her chair. Or Dr. Reid’s chair. 

“You’re… not?” Dr. Reid asked. “Who are you talking to?” 

“The voices in my head,” Parker said, in case there  _ was _ a bug under a chair.

“The… what?” Dr. Reid asked. She could hear the confusion in his voice. Or maybe that was disbelief? Another two she always got mixed up. The line between not understanding something and not believing something was hard for her to find. Especially with only audio cues to go on. 

“I can’t hear them right now,” Parker said. “But they’ll be coming to save us, don’t worry.” 

“Didn’t seem to go too well when you tried it,” Dr. Reid said. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Parker said. “I’m getting better at it though. Last time I tried to help, she was only kidnapped for like a minute before I saved her.” She did not tell the FBI agent that someone had gotten shot afterward. But… “Hey, when you told me you were a doctor, did you mean like medicine or...?”

“No, sorry. I have PhDs. Mathematics, chemistry and engineering.” 

“Oh. Okay, that’s fine.” Parker said. Best not to mention the police officer who’d been shot in the gut then. “It’s okay. We’re going to be just fine.” 

“You’re not… Shouldn’t _ I _ be reassuring  _ you _ that everything’s going to be okay?” Dr. Reid asked. 

“Why?” Parker asked. “You’re the one that got kidnapped first.” 

He snorted. “That’s... true.” 


	15. Day Fifteen Tech Support Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve's "date"

Tony was usually late for things. Pretty much everyone knew he was usually late for things and scheduled accordingly. He hadn’t had anyone criticize him for punctuality since his parents died. Until he met Steve “I am perfect in every way” Rogers, who seemed to expect that everyone be as perfect as he was. 

And, unfortunately, Steve’s “I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed” face was much more effective than Tony’s father’s “I’m-totally-mad-not-disappointed” face. 

So, today, Tony was actually early for lunch. Yes. Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, CEO, inventor, playboy, and philanthropist, was actually  _ early _ for something. 

Pepper had given him a very slight smile when he told her where he was going. He was certain he wasn’t supposed to see that smile, so he pretended he hadn’t. Really, he was a lot more observant than people gave him credit for. How else did they think he’d gotten this far? 

Actually, they thought he’d gotten this far with luck and his father’s money. No one was really shy about saying that. 

And this. This right here. These exact thoughts. This time to himself where he had nothing to do but wait and think these thoughts. This was why he was never early to things. 

Damn stupid Steve and his damn stupid face. 

“Tony?” 

Speak of the devil. “Hey, Steve,” Tony said, trying to sound very casual and not at all like he’d been thinking heavy thoughts. 

The man in question was frowning at him. Tony must not have done a good job of casual. “You’re on time,” Steve said. Then the frown turned into a grin. An all out grin that seemed to be made of sunshine. Tony wasn’t prepared. He was looking right at it. His eyes might burn out of his head; Steve’s smile was  _ that _ sunny. 

“Actually,” Tony said, “I’m early. Five minutes early, to be exact.” 

“Great,” Steve said, which was not what Tony had expected the man to say. Tony had expected Steve to apologize, or something. But, when Tony thought back over the conversation, he realized asking Steve to apologize for Tony being early was dumb. Like, really dumb. Why would he do that? No wonder people think Tony had only gotten this far on luck and money. 

“I tried to invite Bucky,” Steve said. “But he didn’t want to come.” 

“Oh,” Tony said, resisting the urge to look down at his plate or play with his napkin. Of course Steve wanted to invite Bucky. The two of them were joined at the hip. They were practically made for one another. 

Tony had met Bucky first. One of his old PAs, Natasha, had introduced the two of them. Tony, fresh from yet another kidnapping (being CEO of a multinational company was hard) had shut down the weapons manufacturing parts of SI. He hadn’t been able to even look at a gun or missile without having flashbacks. Much less design them. Or sell them. He’d wanted to do something else instead. Something… good.

And Natasha, brilliant Natasha, had introduced him to a friend of hers. Bucky: a guy missing an arm. Tony needed a project that wouldn’t give him nightmares. Bucky needed a new arm. It was a match made in heaven. Designing Bucky’s prosthetic had been… very therapeutic. And also, Tony had gotten to meet Steve. 

Steve was an all-American beefcake with an adorable smile and a good heart. Steve had the kind of moral conviction you only read about in comic books or those super old stories about knights. Steve was… unreal in his wholesomeness. He was like Tony’s opposite. 100% good. 

Bucky had had his new arm for months now. Tony had given Bucky a job in IT to keep Bucky nearby in case Tony ever wanted to do some adjustments on the prosthetic. And also, keeping Bucky nearby kept Steve nearby. 

Sort of. Steve was still in the army. Which scared the shit out of both Tony and Bucky. But Steve was stateside for the next few months, at least. 

“Why didn’t he want to come?” Tony asked after a moment of silence. “Bucky? He doesn’t like sushi, or something?” 

Steve looked down at his menu and blushed. “I… he said he didn’t want to play third wheel on our date.” 

Tony had stopped blushing a really long time ago. But seeing Steve blush was… a very rewarding experience. “Oh. He thinks we’re dating?” He would not mind that. Not at all. Except it would never happen. Steve was… Steve was 100% good. Tony, if he was being generous, was about 12% good. Steve deserved someone who was  _ at least _ 75% good. Not Bucky, though. Tony’d put Bucky at about 34% good. (And not because he was jealous. Pepper would say he was jealous. He was not jealous. ) 

Steve laughed. A nervous kind of laugh, though. Tony didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “I think he was just trying to embarrass me.” Because dating Tony would be embarrassing. Of course it would. Tony knew that. “He might have been trying to distract me.” 

“From what?” Tony asked. Yes. Distracted. Distracted was good.

Pepper was good, Tony found himself thinking. Pepper was 268% good. Maybe she and Steve should date? No, he thought. Maybe not. 

“There’s this girl,” Steve said. “She calls him pretty much every day.” 

“Why doesn’t he want you to ask about that?” You get to know a guy pretty well when you make limbs for them. Between initial interviews asking about what Bucky needed to taking measurements to the endless fittings, Tony and Bucky had had a lot of conversations. Bucky was not shy about his love life. He was almost as much a man-whore as Tony was. Maybe Steve had a type? No, Tony. Focus. “Usually he can’t shut up about his dates.” 

“He’s not dating her,” Steve said, a grin crossing his features. Tony couldn’t tell if the grin was sly or fond… they were disturbingly similar expressions on Steve Rogers’ face. “She calls him at work.” 

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” a waitress said, temporarily interrupting their conversation while Tony and Steve ordered. Steve wanted water. Tony ordered water too.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this,” Tony said, after the waitress left. “I am technically his boss. I don’t really want to have to fire him because he calls his girlfriends when he’s supposed to be working.” 

Steve shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no! No, the calls are for work, I swear! She’s just hopeless with computers. She calls the IT department often enough that Bucky’s gotten to know her, is what I mean.” He was smiling at Tony now. “He just looks forward to helping her with computers, is all. They talk often enough that they trade like, book and music recommendations.” 

Tony frowned. “Do you know her name?” 

“It’s Jane. She’s like an astrologist, or something,” Steve said. “Why, do you know her?” 

“It’s just that Bucky works for my in-house IT support,” Tony said. “We don’t really hire people if they don’t have basic CS skills. Also, if someone hired an astrologist… I obviously do not have as firm a grip on the company as I thought.” 

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. She calls Bucky all the time. I think it’s good for him, you know? She’s got him listening to classical music, and-”

“What kind of classical music?” 

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. It all sounds the same to me. Some… Russian guy, I guess?” 

“Jane Foster,” Tony said. 

“What? That doesn’t sound Russian-” 

“No, the girl. Jane Foster. She’s an astrophysicist.” 

“Astrophysicist… Sorry,” Steve said. “Not an astrologist.” 

“Steve,” Tony said. “Jane Foster is one of the more brilliant people I have on the payroll. She designed all the equipment she uses. She built the prototypes out of toasters and microwaves she bought at garage sales.” She might be smarter than he was. They didn’t know. There wasn’t really a good way to measure these things. But still. “There’s no way she needs to call IT frequently enough to even be on a first name basis with Bucky, much less trade music preferences.” 

Steve frowned. But it was an anticipatory frown. “What are you saying?” 

Tony leaned forward. “Is Bucky dating anyone right now?” 

“Nope.” Steve’s anticipatory frown had turned into an anticipatory grin. “Not yet.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... wrote Stony. I feel weird about that. Fandom politics. They were originally just going to be friends because I... feel weird about those fandom politics. But then Tony had an enormous crush so whatever. I love writing Tony because his voice is actually incredibly easy to find. But he thinks very quickly. And with run on sentences. His brain just keeps going and going. It's hard to find the balance between Tony's voice and good grammar.


	16. Day Sixteen Natasha Romanoff and Jason Bourne Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuba, a place of sunny beaches, cigars, and biochemistry laboratories owned by former Soviet scientists.

They’d been in Cuba for about… four hours before someone shot at them.

“Damn,” Jason said, ducking behind cover, a concrete pillar in a parking garage. Natasha ducked behind the pillar next to his. “You knew  _ exactly  _ where to go.”

Nat shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. How do you want to do this?”

“Me? I thought this was your op,” Jason said. “I’m just following your lead.”

“As soon as they figure out I’m a Black Widow, they’re going to shut me down. I’ll be next to useless.”

“How do they do that? Explosive nanites in your bloodstream or some bullshit like that?” Jason asked.

“Not exactly,” Natasha said, peering out from behind her concrete cover. They shot at her. She shot back. “I can keep them distracted while you find your way into the offices. But tell how you plan on infiltrating so we don’t step on each others’ toes.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” Jason said, firing of a shot around the corner. Natasha could hear the body drop. He was a good shot. “Generally, I like to enter a building  _ before  _ the shooting starts.”

“Don’t be a such crybaby,” she said. “Security is making their way around the parking structure. They’ll have men flanking us in five minutes. Just tell me where you want to go in and where you plan on coming out.” 

“Uh…” he looked out around the pillars before ducking back. Bullets chipped bits of rock off the corners. “South and east?” 

“Is that a question?” 

“No,” Jason said. “South and east.”

“I’ll pull them north and west then,” Nat said. “You have the jump drive?” 

“All I have to do is plug it in, right?” 

“It helps if you open the program’s file.” 

“Right. Plug it in, open the file. Do I have to take it with me?”

Natasha shook her head. “No, it’ll self destruct after it’s done running.” 

“Fancy,” Jason said. 

Natasha shrugged. “Working with Stark has to have  _ some  _ perks.”

“I heard he gets the world’s best coffee,” Jason said. “Imports it just for him or something.”

“I’ve had it. It’s not that great,” Nat said.

“It’s not?”

“Well… do you know what civet coffee is?” Natasa ducked as a bullet blasted a chunk of concrete past her face. She shook her head to get the dust out of her hair. It always made her scalp itch.

“No,” Jason said.

“In that case, when we get done, I’ll let Stark make you a cup,” Nat said. She didn’t think Tony actually drank the civet coffee. He bought regular (but fair trade) beans and brewed them with engine oil or something. But Tony did love to make people cups of civet coffee and wait until they were taking a sip to explain where it came from. 

He was worse than Clint sometimes.

“Meanwhile, you could steal those fancy, wireless communicators that the Avengers use,” Jason said. “Would be useful about twenty seconds from now.”

Natasha shrugged. “Didn’t think I was gonna need it. Are you ready?”

“Probably. You gonna cover me?”

“Yeah.”

Jason nodded. “Okay, I’m headed out.” 

Natasha leaned out from cover and shot at the building’s armed security guards with one of her glocks. Jason used the cover to run. Her other hand reached into her back pocket. She had a couple of those little silver grenades the Winter Soldier had in Washington. She’d liked those, and it wasn’t like Yasha- no, James- was going to need them any time soon. T’Challa had been happy to give them to her.

Well… happy wasn’t exactly the right word. Resigned. Resigned was the right word.

She tossed the little silver ball at the guards. They had five seconds.

Natasha used the explosion to head north. She left a certain amount of chaos in her wake. Enough so that the building’s security could find her. Not so much they would guess she was a distraction.

Erring on the side of caution, Jason would need five minutes to infiltrate. Then thirty seconds to find a computer terminal and one minute forty five seconds for the program to run. Another five minutes to clear the scene.

She’d keep them busy on the north side for five minutes. Then she would spend two-ish minutes finding somewhere cozy near the west entrance. Keep them busy for another five minutes. Then she’d leave. She and Jason would meet back at their hotel room.

If he wasn’t out of the building in that time, well... it sucked to be Jason Bourne.

Nat had faith in him. The real question was could she keep them from discovering who she was for twelve minutes?

Eight minutes and twenty-six seconds later, Natasha found the answer. No. No, she could not.

Technically, it was just a smell. 

Natasha didn’t even know what the smell was. Her brain didn’t exactly register it the way it registered other smells. Instead, the presence of this particular chemical made her… stop.

Natasha fell to her knees. She could urge her finger to pull the trigger, her arm to hold the gun steady. She could beg her legs to hold her up, her body to move.

But her body would do none of it. It physically would not. All she could force herself to do was curl into a ball on the ground. Bullets whizzed past her. One gouged out a piece of her shoulder. She started to bleed. She could hear the boots of Department X’s security forces heading toward her. But she couldn’t stand up. She couldn’t make herself stand up.

Some mysterious chemicals in her nose. That was all it took to turn a Black Widow into a scared girl.

Natasha put the safety on and allowed her gun to clatter to the ground.

Then she punched herself in the face.

As blood dripped from her nose, she barely remembered to pick up her gun before she turned and ran. Her legs shook and her stride was uneven. She tripped and caught fall like a novice, scraping her palms on the concrete. 

Nat hoped she'd given Jason enough time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why so many of these last few chapters have been continuances of previous chapters, it's because I haven't been getting that many new prompts lately. _*[hint hint](http://reprehensiblewombat.tumblr.com/ask)*_


	17. Day Seventeen The Monaco Job Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Leverage crew meets Remy LeBeau. Sophie's POV

Sophie was bloody furious.

“We don’t need LeBeau!” she hissed at Nate when they got back to their hotel.

“Actually, we do,” Nate said. “Richardson’s just been the victim of a theft. He’ll be on the lookout for any new people that just happen to pop into his life. But LeBeau has an airtight alibi, and the mark already trusts him.” Nate paused. “Well, to a point. Trusts him to a point.”

“I agree with Sophie,” Eliot said. “We can’t trust LeBeau.”

“So?” Nate said. “We’ve worked jobs with people we can’t trust all the time. Sterling. Archie. Even Cha0s.”

“I can trust Archie,” Parker protested.

“Not all the time,” Sophie said, ignoring Parker. “Only occasionally. When we have have no other choice.” Sophie hated working with Sterling. “Richardson’s not even the hardest mark we’ve taken down. I can bloody well fool him.”

“Of course you can,” Nate said. “But LeBeau already has an in.”

“We can’t trust him,” Sophie insisted. “Is there any particular reason we need to do this now? We can’t just wait a few weeks until the heat is off?”

“Wakanda,” Nate said.

“What about Wakanda?” Sophie asked.

“Wakandans are ruthless when protecting their resources,” Nate said. “You wanna know what would happen to us if they thought we were the ones to steal their herbs?”

Sophie pursed her lips and tried again. “Then why don’t you just hand them over?”

“Hand them over? To SHIELD?” Nate asked. “The underground spy organization that Captain America revealed was full of Nazis? We can’t trust they will give the Wakandans back their drugs. And maybe they point the finger at us.”

“Are Wakandans  _ that  _ scary?” Parker asked.

“Yes,” Hardison and Eliot said at the same time. Parker blinked between them.

“Their tech is amazing,” Hardison said. “I’d rather hack Stark Industries with an Atari than anything from Wakanda.”

“And their fighters are just as good,” Eliot said. “Six of me against one member of the Dora Milaje and I would still lose.“

“The what?” Sophie asked.

“Dora Milaje. King’s bodyguards,” Eliot explained.

“Oh yeah?” Parker asked. “What’s distinctive about them?”

“Everything. Wakandans are serious business.”

“Which is why we need to move quickly,” Nate said.  

Sophie saw it then, clear as day, and stopped in her tracks. “Damn it, Nate!” she exclaimed. “You don’t just want to run a con on Richardson; you want to run a con on SHIELD!” she hissed.

“Not necessarily,” Nate said. “I just want to see what kind of organization they are.”

“Nate,” Eliot said. “SHIELD is serious business, too. If we cross them, we might not walk away.”

Nate sighed and turned to them. “You wanna quit? Fine. Go. We can wait a week, and we can hope Richardson will relax enough to con. We can hope his vitamins haven’t killed anyone else in the meantime. We can hope SHIELD is on the up and up and returns all the drugs to Wakanda. We can hope SHIELD doesn’t tell the Wakandans that we stole them.”

They all stared at him. Sophie made sure face was impassive, but her mind was rioting. She doubted the probability of all those things happening was great. She knew that Nate wanted to con SHIELD because he wanted to see what kind of people they were.

Nate’s cons only worked on the greedy. He designed them that way. If the mark grew a conscience in the middle of the con, it wouldn’t work. That was the beauty of Nate’s plans. The elegance of them.

He didn’t necessarily want to con SHIELD, but he did want test them. To see if they were the good guys. And maybe they wouldn’t pass. Maybe they would. Either way, Nate would have valuable information. Another tool in his tool box. Richardson wasn’t his focus anymore.

“Nate,” she said. “None of us are leaving. We’ll follow your lead. But  _ you  _ need to focus. Douglas Richardson is our target. You can’t lose sight of that.”

“I haven’t,” Nate said. “We’re just gonna change the play. And we’re gonna add a new player. If any of you have a problem with that, you can walk away.”

“We’re not gonna walk away, Nate,” Eliot said. “We never walk away.”

“Good. Then we’ll meet LeBeau tomorrow morning.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Sophie was still angry. Still worried about Nate’s focus. Still nervous about meeting LeBeau. But she knew she wouldn’t have a chance to discuss these things with Nate until after the job was over. And between now and then... who knew what would happen?

They were all waiting in the hotel room for LeBeau to arrive. They had arranged themselves in the room. Nate stood in the middle. Eliot flanked him. Sophie sat on Nate’s other side, reclining as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Parker stood behind everyone next to the door leading out to the balcony. Hardison sat at the desk, his laptop set up in front of him.

They were not speaking.

Sophie didn’t think like Nate or Eliot. But even she could tell they were in a battle formation. Nate was in the center, leading the attack. Everyone else was in defense mode. Eliot beside him, in a position to step between Nate and anyone who came from either the hotel door or the balcony. Hardison was ready to bring electronic attacks. He could trigger the fire alarm, cut the lights, or blast the television’s sound system. Sophie's position showed off her legs, a distraction. Parker already had cables rigged in case she needed to escape, and she could carry at least one of them with her.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Nate said.

Remy LeBeau walked in. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses this morning. Eyes the color of hellfire took in the room and the team. Sophie could see that LeBeau registered the offensive and defensive advantages of their positions.

Rumor had it LeBeau was a flirt, but he didn’t linger on her advantageously placed legs. Instead, his focus was on Nate. The only offensive one. “I was told you were expecting me.”

“Yes. We could use your help,” Nate said.

“I gathered that,” LeBeau said. “But I’m afraid I’m at a loss. You all know who I am, but who are you?” His gaze flicked toward Eliot. “I’d guess Dale Sheppard isn’t your real name.”

“I’m Nate Ford,” Nate said. “This is my crew. Sophie, Eliot, Hardison, Parker.”

LeBeau smiled. It was a cultivated smile. Sophie had many of her own. LeBeau bent forward in something halfway between a bow and a curtsy. “Enchanté,” he said, managing to flirt with each of them at once.

_ Damn _ , Sophie thought.  _ He  _ is  _ good. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sophie is hard to write. I think she's actually far more intuitive than how I've presented her here. Maybe we can pretend that's Nate's influence? I don't know. Part IV is either from Remy's or Parker's point of view. I'm not sure yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you want one? Send me prompts either here or at [my tumblr](http://reprehensiblewombat.tumblr.com/ask)! They can be whatever you want. You don't have to be following me, and you can send more than one!


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